


Cede

by unsettled



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: M/M, bottom!graves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 22:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9463538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: Credence is acquiring a need for the way Graves looks when he fucks him.





	

Credence wonders, sometimes, if it's a magical thing that Graves is always so warm. That maybe all wizards radiate such heat, like the magic running through their blood burns like a fever. He can feel it, always, even when Graves is covered in layers of clothing and coat, is only standing near him, and it reels him in. When Graves actually touches him, it burns, almost hurts, and he'd worried once that Graves had left a brand on the back of his neck, marking him out as his. 

Like this, Graves leaning over him, bracketing him with hands and knees and not wearing a thing, his skin barely brushing Credence's, it's as though he's next to a bonfire. He tangles his fingers with Credence's, presses them into the bed and Credence appreciates it, if he stops long enough to think about it, because he's never sure what to do with his hands, how safe it is to grasp at Graves when they're like this. Maybe it's a kindness, keeping him from burning himself.

He presses up into Graves' kisses, savoring them, tilting his head to the side as Graves' lips drift, nipping lightly at his neck; lifts his hips, a little, and starts to raise one leg when Graves puts his hands on his knee. “Wait,” he says, very quietly, face still turned into the the juncture of Credence's neck and shoulder. His breath is warm and sends tiny shivers across Credence's skin. “I … I want to try something else,” he says, faltering, and Credence wonders what could possibly make _Graves_ hesitant, uncertain. What could possibly- 

Graves presses another kiss to his skin before he sits back, sits up above Credence, his cock brushing against Credence's, dragging a whine from him. “Anything,” Credence tells him, basking in his heat. Graves smiles, slightly, and runs the tips of his fingers down the length of Credence's cock. Credence barely notices when Graves' other hand disappears behind his back, but he does when Graves says something strange, something sibilant that Credence doesn't understand for a moment before he thinks, _magic_. An odd expression passes over Graves' face, and then he rises up, his hand curled around the base of Credence's cock, and sinks down onto it. 

At first, Credence doesn't really realize – there's just a moment of the tip of his cock pressing against something warm as he stares up at Graves, and then, pressure, more, the slightest hint of something giving way, and suddenly, warmth and sensation and being surrounded and it just keeps coming as Graves slides down, takes him in and sinks further and further. Credence gasps, hands clenching in the sheets, unable to think or breathe or do anything while Graves just … settles himself, while Graves is above him, looking like that, eyes closed and the tiniest furrow in his brow, the corner of his bottom lip caught in his teeth, like – like - 

He bottoms out, and stops, tense, his breath a little uneven. Credence can't look away, can't say anything, doesn't dare move as Graves shifts around his cock, little flutters of movement, but he feels it, feels when the tension bleeds from Graves' frame, feels the way his back curves and relaxes, the way all that tight pressure is suddenly … different. Graves lets out a long, heavy sigh and opens his eyes. “Sir,” Credence says, helplessly, dragged out of him when their eyes meet. This is- 

“Is this alright?” Graves asks, his voice almost breathy.

Credence can't help himself at that, can't stop the sharp, laugh that leaps from him. “Alright?” he says, and then, “Yes, yes, of course, it's- “

He can't find more words for that, because Graves smiles then, wide and pleased and warm. Brings his hands up to Credence's sides, settled neatly around his waist, and _moves_. 

Credence pushes his head back into the pillow and tries to think about nothing but breathing, about the small, gasping 'oh's' that are being forced from him as Graves slides back up on his cock, almost all the way out, the air hitting him cold and sharp, and then he's coming back down, too much pressure and tightness and shocking, scalding heat, and the feel of it, the– “Oh God,” he whispers, “Oh, please, please.”

Graves is relentless, rides him slowly, and this is something Credence never could have imagined, could have dreamed of. The way it feels is indescribable, is utterly overwhelming, but- 

but more – more is the way Graves looks, as Credence stares up at him, wide eyed and strung out. The way Graves' body moves as grinds down, the play of muscles in his abdomen, the flush spreading across his skin, the way his head's fallen back, just a little, mouth open as he breathes, short and sharp, eyes just glimmers beneath his eyelids, still fixed on Credence. He looks nothing, nothing like the put together, dignified, _controlled_ man Credence is so used to seeing – even before, even when he'd fucked into Credence and come, he hadn't looked like this, and Credence- 

Credence wants. 

His hands come up, settle on Graves' hips, lightly, just feeling the way he moves, and Graves makes a small sound at that, a tiny hum of pleasure. He rolls his hips a little, testing, barely lengthening each withdraw, and Graves smiles, says, low and deep in his chest, “Yes, Credence, that's good, that's-”

That's not enough, Credence thinks, and tightens his hands, snaps his hips up. Graves eyes fly open, and shocked, high sound startling from him, staring down at Credence. “Credence,” he says, on a gasp, and Credence does it again. “Oh, fuck, Credence,” Graves moans, curling forward a little, hands sliding up to the flat of Credence's hips, bracing himself, fingers pressing in. When he comes back down, it's hard too, and they match each other now, faster and harder and Graves yielding to him, taking it, his neck and shoulders and chest flushed dark now, sweaty; he stares up at Graves and feels like he never wants this to stop.

Feels like he's so close, can't keep this up much longer, but he wants – he slides a hand down Graves' skin, until its resting just above Graves' cock, until it's pressed flat against it, and Graves keens at that, a sound Credence has never heard from him. “Please,” he breaths out, and that's something else Credence has never heard, has never imagined hearing, _Graves_ begging, and it washes over him in a red tide of want. 

“I want,” he manages to get out, because this is important, wrapping his hand around Graves' cock. “I want you to come, like this,” and he tightens his hand as Graves shudders. “Before me,' he adds, “So make it quick,” and Graves' fingers dig into him at that, hard. He strokes Graves, tight and hard and fast, thumbing over the sticky, wet slit and trying to concentrate on that, on the way Graves thrusts into his hand and back onto his cock and lets out these breathless moans, on letting that hold back his orgasm just a little longer, a little longer - 

Graves makes a wrenched, guttural groan and curls forward, stilling on Credence's cock as he comes, clenching around him so tightly and steadily and nothing on earth could keep Credence from coming now, from jerking his hips up one last time into Graves and coming, hands tightening on Graves' hips and crying out as feeling overwhelms him completely. 

Neither of them move for a long few moments, even though Graves' arms are trembling with the effort of holding himself up, Credence's back still tense, still pressing up into him. He can't think can't move, still caught, strung high on that edge of feeling. Finally, finally, Credence draws back, moaning at the feel of air against his cock, sliding out of Graves and going limp. Graves whines as he slides out, high in the back of his throat, and his hands clench on Credence once more before he falls, curled on his side next to Credence, one leg still thrown over him. Credence turns his head to look at him.

He looks utterly, complete destroyed, flushed and sweaty and wrung out, his hair is irreparably mussed, fine strands falling forward over his face, eyes closed as he pants shivering slightly. Credence looks, and thinks, _I did that_.

He can't describe the feeling that hits him then, as heavy as a blow, at the knowledge that he made Graves look like this, only that it hooks deep in his chest and stomach and makes him want more with a burning, starving need. He rolls towards Graves, until he can hook an arm over him and bury his face in Graves' hair. Graves sighs, quietly, and nuzzles against his shoulder. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to.


End file.
